


Nonnatus House for Magical Nuns and Midwives

by Frostberry



Series: Nonnatus House for Magical Nuns and Midwives [1]
Category: Call the Midwife, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Call the midwife in the Harry Potter universe, Gen, The Ghost of Sister Monica Joan, The Nurses are in fact witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostberry/pseuds/Frostberry
Summary: The year is 1962, and a young healer named Barbara has just arrived in London to help the pregnant witches of London’s magical community. Harry Potter World AU.





	

At 62 Grimmauld Place, if you shouted ‘I NEED HELP’, the Nonnatus House for Magical Nuns and Midwives would appear. The house would open up in the middle of two muggle homes, much like a balloon being inflated. In 1962, the address was 62 Grimmauld Place. Each year, it was changed to the corresponding number. Barbara Gilbert thought it was 61 Grimmauld Place, but that was the address in 1961.

Poplar was a very poor area of London. Witches and wizards regularly visited Knockturn Alley, and they lived in invisible residences on top of muggle homes. A witch and wizard could live for years on the 5th story of a house belonging to muggles and they would never know it, though slugs fell down from the ceilings when wizards had arguments, and a basilisk was rumoured to stalk the pipes underground, until it blew itself up accidentally when it ate an old German bomb. 

Barbara Gilbert had arrived at Nonnatus House via a portkey. An old muddy boot with no shoelaces, it had cost two sickles to prepare. Sister Julienne had quickly scribbled by owl that she might not be able to meet Barbara when she arrived. Barbara wished she could have apparated, but she didn’t want to set any alarms off, thanks to the Caterwauling Charm that the Death Eaters had put over Poplar to keep people from apparating in and out. 

“I need help!” She called desperately between the two muggle houses that were on the diagram on the parchment, and at once Nonnatus House appeared, as if it had been there all along. 

However, Sister Julienne had also mentioned in her note a ghost might be waiting for her outside. Barbara barely saw the old nun in the day. It was the enquiring voice that made her jump. Muggle children raced around them playing ball. Barbara supposed they could not see the ghost, nor even her, but she wasn’t quite sure.  _ I suppose this is the Ghost of Sister Monica Joan.  _

“It appears I have spotted a visitor.” The ghost giggled, showing small, crowded teeth. Barbara felt a bit ill. She had never liked the ghosts that were at her parents church. 

“Would you like your stars read? The Muggles have horoscopes." Sister Monica Joan waved a battered copy of a muggle magazine,  _ Women‘s Weekly _ . “You look like a Virgo. Now...” she pursed her lips as she tried to find the page with the horoscopes. 

“Uh, no, thank you,” Barbara said hurriedly as Sister Monica Joan loudly tried to tell her that she was destined to be a star in the pictures. 

“Would you like some iced buns?" Sister Monica Joan proffered a plate of green buns, mouldy and gross looking.

“I’m here for the nuns,” Barbara suggested. “Not the buns,” she added as an afterthought, as Sister Monica Joan let her in.

Going down the hallway, Barbara spotted a coat rack. She could see the different coloured scarves and coats. She recognised the colours of the Hogwarts Houses. Green, Red, Yellow and Blue. 

Barbara was imagining every bedroom to have a Hogwarts scarf hanging, but then she remembered nuns didn’t have possessions, not even a wand. She had been home schooled, so she didn’t know very much about Hogwarts.

“Are you in labor, dear child?” Sister Monica Joan looked down at Barbara‘s thin figure, expecting a child to be in there. Barbara jumped, and shook her head, turning away from the scarves. 

“Uh, no, I’m just a healer here to stay.” 

 

*** 

 

After being introduced quickly to the nurses (Trixie, Patsy, Delia, Phyllis and Valerie) and to the nuns (Sisters Julienne, Mary Cynthia, Winifred, Ursula), they set up for the morning at precisely eight o’clock in the equipment room. The nurses had their wands out, sanitising instruments in the air and gossiping about the newest developments from The Wizarding Wireless Network. Sister Winifred was doing the bag check, reaching her arm right into a never ending bag and counting with her fingers what was in there. Of course, Barbara was the last one to come into the equipment room. 

“ _ Late _ .” Sister Ursula said. 

“Uh - um, sorry,” Barbara apologised, “I got lost.” The staircases moved around and she’d ended up several times in the garden before taking the right one. 

“Never be late again,” Sister Ursula clipped Barbara’s bag shut quite forcefully before handing it to her. “You will be with Dr Turner today.” 

“Who?” 

A map was conjured in mid air with a snap of Sister Ursula’s fingers, landing safely in Barbara’s hands. 

The mediwizard, Dr Turner, opened up his clinic at nine in the morning for the Maternity Home for Pregnant Witches and Occasional Wizards. His wife, Shelagh, was a former nun from Nonnatus, who was a year older than Trixie at Hogwarts. Shelagh had previously lived in Hogsmeade, and was a proud former Hufflepiuff. Dr Turner, a brave former Gryffindor, originally ran the Hogwarts Hospital Wing before setting up in London after the Battle of Grindelwald. 

“You are to help us with the maternity home today, Nurse Gilbert,” said Dr Turner, as Shelagh tapped her wand several times to boil the water in the kettle for tea. It didn’t take Barbara long to find the maternity home; there was a shortcut on the map. “You can shadow Shelagh today - the witches in our six beds are here with anything from swollen ankles to curses which make them unable to do magic until baby is born.”

 

*** 

 

Barbara was put in the same dormitory as Nurse Crane, who was always flying off at night to learn Spanish in Madrid. So instead, Barbara made friends with Patsy and Trixie, the two midwives who shared a room down the corridor.

They were listening to Celestina Warbeck’s  _ A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love  _ when Barbara entered the room. Trixie, a quick witted former Ravenclaw, had a cauldron of Mr Sleek-Easy’s Permanent Hair Colour Solution in the corner. She had fluffy blonde hair, which seemed to be a different length and hairstyle every day. Barbara went over and sniffed the potion, and it turned pink.

“I dare say, Trixie, this seems a bit strong.” 

“This isn’t permanent like it says on the packet,” Trixie said crossly, using her wand to draw out some solution. It spiraled across the room and absorbed itself into her hair. “It’s my muggle blood. I get roots. Most witches don’t. Some of them jinx their hair such ridiculous colours these days - have you seen what they look like in  _ Witch Weekly? _ It’s like they don’t have a job. However, I’d rather be in tip top shape at all times for when I finally meet my wizard, no matter what Hogwarts House he was in.”

“You look more of a Slytherin to me," said Patsy. She grinned at Barbara. ”I‘ve always said that.”

“The sorting hat, when I was at Hogwarts, didn’t take half bloods into Slytherin,” Trixie said grumpily. “Only the purest got through. A timid wizard who was neither brave, ambitious, nor cunning would still end up in Slytherin. Green looks better on me than Ravenclaw blue.”

Barbara had heard stories about Hogwarts, and knew Ravenclaw was the blue house for those with quick and intelligent minds. Patsy’s red and yellow Gryffindor scarf was tied up in a bow by her bed. Pictures of moving people, mostly of her and Delia, waved at Barbara from the wall. 

Patsy used her wand to fill several glasses of giggle water and the three of them sipped it.

Trixie breathed into a cigarette, purple rings floating around her like flies. “But,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “Not like anyone would want others to know they’re a Slytherin these days, with You-Know-Who around. That woman is a  _ Death Eater _ .”

”What, Sister Ursula?” said Barbara loudly. She began to laugh, and clamped her hand around her mouth quickly. This was the effect of the giggle water. 

“Shh!“ said Patsy, as if Sister Ursula could hear them. 

”She‘s evil,” whispered Trixie. 

“We have no evidence. Like all nuns, she covers up so we don’t know if she has the mark.” Barbara was referring to the skull tattoos You-Know-Who’s supporters had on their arm, which  _ The Daily Prophet  _ had warned them about. 

“We’ll just shut up about it. Or does she have a wand close by to curse others?” inquired Patsy. The nuns were required to do wandless magic only. “With all the magic in the air, we don’t apparate, we don’t know if she goes off to You-Know-Who meetings. We use muggle bikes, modified, thanks to Fred’s handiwork. Or, if in an emergency, we use broomsticks. I don’t think Sister Ursula would ride a muggle bike to a Death Eater meeting.” At this, Barbara laughed. It was too ridiculous to think Sister Ursula, even if she was not the nicest nun around, was a Death Eater. 

The night went on, all three of them were sharing stories about magical life. 

Then Patsy told Barbara her story.

Patsy was locked up in a muggle concentration camp with her muggle mother. Patsy managed, as a three year old, to apparate out of the camp several times before apparating to England. “See my eyebrow?” Half of it was missing, the other half was pencilled in with red eyeliner. “The other half I left in Singapore.”

“Would you be able to get it back...?” suggested Barbara. “Like,  _ Accio Eyebrow _ , or something?”

“I did that years ago, it might still be zooming across the Indian Ocean.”

Trixie laughed. “I know it’s serious, but imagining half an eyebrow going north east of the globe...” 

“It’ll turn up.” Patsy promised. She tapped her wand on Trixie’s gold cauldron, and the potion inside turned a nice red.

Trixie grumbled. “I was making that for my blonde roots...” 

“ _ My _ blonde roots are appearing...”  Patsy said, pulling out the potion with her wand to apply to her hair.

“Is that safe? The amount of potion you’re putting in there?” Barbara peered in the cauldron. 

“Don’t be silly.” 

 

****

 

On Tuesday mornings, the Poplar Community Centre mysteriously became non-existent to muggles as the witches came in, many of them with children already themselves. A few of the children zoomed in on small broomsticks. Nurse Crane came forward, and with a flick of her wand, the broomsticks vanished, leaving a few of the children scowling and on the floor.

“You will get your brooms back after mummy has seen the nurses.” Barbara let out a small giggle. Nurse Crane was perhaps the most unintentionally funny healer she had ever met. One of the children started crying, and she reached into her pocket to get out some barley sugars. “Have a sweet. What colour would you like to turn?”

“I’d like to be a tiger, so may I have the sweet with black and orange stripes, please Nurse Crane?” At once all the children wanted to be tigers. Nurse Crane used a simple charm, and all the children were now sporting simple orange and black stripes on their faces.

“They’re not going to have whiskers though,” said Nurse Crane to the mothers, who clapped. However, she muttered to Barbara as she walked past, “Some of these witches wouldn’t know how to undo the hex. Not the brightest bunch, unfortunately." 

Barbara stifled another giggle, and then read out a name on her list. “Mrs Coakes, please come forward.” 

A heavily pregnant woman with a set of twins by her side came lumbering into the room; the curtains automatically swung shut behind her. 

“I’m having an ‘ouse-elf.” Mrs Coakes said as she got onto the bed, ready to be examined by Barbara.

“I’m sorry?”

“An ‘ouse-elf.” Mrs Coakes repeated.

“Oh, and do you know if its a girl or boy elf...?” asked Barbara, hoping that Mrs Coakes was joking. 

“It’s a boy.” She smiled at her belly. “Going to be the most beautiful ‘ouse-elf you’ve ever seen, Nurse. He’ll do ma washing, be a good cook... might even wear a towel and not a hanky... He’’ll start off with a hanky as his dress, then I will ask him to get himself a pocket square, as I can’t give him any clothes, then a washcloth,..”

“I’m just going to go get Sister...” Barbara retreated, and found Sister Winifred and Julienne washing instruments in the back.

The two sisters didn’t even look twice at Mrs Coakes. “I think you might have to give birth at St Mungo’s, Mrs Coakes,” said Sister Julienne. 

“What? Why?” Mrs Coakes sounded hurt. “I’ve never ‘ad to go there, all ma children been born at ‘ome. My ‘ouse-elf is gonna be born at ‘ome. Only crazies go to St Mungo’s.”

“ _ Revelare _ ,” Sister Julienne said, and Mrs Coakes suddenly looked alert. This was the first time Barbara had seen one of the nuns do any magic. Sister Winifred rushed forward with a spoonful of potion which Mrs Coakes swallowed. Barbara recognised it as a spell reversal potion.

“Imperius Curse on my child by Lestrange,” Mrs Coakes said in a monotone. “I got in the way.” 

Her head slumped forward, and she passed out. Barbara put her hand to her mouth in shock. 

“Someone put an Unforgivable curse on her?”

“Mrs Coakes will be fine,” said Sister Julienne, “However this is a dark curse which we should leave to the healers at St Mungo’s.”

A portkey was arranged, and Delia, a healer from St Mungo’s who lived at Nonnatus, came in to collect Mrs  Coakes. 

 

**** 

 

Barbara knew a lot about the history of the branches of Christianity that intertwined with Magic, and had talked to the nuns about it, who suggested she go and talk to ‘Tom’ if she wanted more information. She was excited to find out that there was a nice young curate named Tom next door to Nonnatus who served both the magical and Muggle communities. She bumped into him whilst collecting the fruit that was donated on the front door step. She blushed as she dropped several gloomberries on his shoes. They bounced and splattered ink onto the stairs.

“ _ Fructus Vicissim _ ,” Barbara waved her wand quickly; the gloomberries un-splattered themselves and went back into the basket she was holding.

“You must be Tom.” She grinned, and put her wand back in her robe. She looked down at her shoes, which were now free of gloomberry juice. 

Tom bowed his head and smiled. “I am. And you must be Clumsy Barbara.”

Barbara felt a bit shocked. “How did you know I’m clumsy?”

“Trixie told me,” he grinned. He didn’t seem to be mocking her, but he seemed genuinely amused all the same.

They sat on the stairs of Nonnatus House talking, each taking a gloomberry. 

“...You’re a curate? That’s good. My father’s a vicar. I was a healer in Liverpool, but the magical community has gotten smaller there...” Barbara said, nibbling the leaf of the gloomberry.” I used to apparate all over the place, you know, attending to the witches and wizards, but you can‘t anymore ever since the Death Eaters have started getting more active.”

“Darkness is coming, and I hope we all get out safe.” Tom pointed at the houses down Grimmauld Place.“ Even the Muggle children have stopped playing here.”

Barbara looked at where Tom was pointing. He was right. Usually the Poplar children played ball, or played with sticks up and around Grimmauld Place. They usually mingled with the magical children, but now there was no one outside except for Fred who was fixing a bike.

“How will you cope with the darkness, Tom?”

Tom smiled again. “Trixie.”

“Oh…” said Barbara. Then she got it. “ _ Oh _ .”  _ They’re husband and wife!  _ “Sorry, I didn’t know you were…” 

“Engaged.” 

“Not married?” 

“No.”

“Oh.” 

“We’ve been together since school. I was captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team. I played keeper. Trixie had no interest in sports. She only turned up to watch me, or paint her fingernails. The wind from the broomsticks zooming past made her nail polish dry quicker, apparently. Been together since seventh year.”

_ Engaged to Trixie?  _ Barbara thought.  _ But… they’re nothing alike.  _

“Trixie went on to become an apprentice at St Mungo’s, while I decided I wanted to work with Muggles, and I ended up becoming the curate of the Muggles’ Poplar Church.”

“Do the Muggles know you’re… well, a bit different, if you know what I mean?” Barbara didn’t want to be rude, but Muggles always sensed there was something different about someone if they were a wizard.

“I’m Muggle-born, I think, so I know Muggle etiquette very well. And I don’t use magic around them. Occasionally I’ll clean the church after Sunday service. Saves on the cleaning bill.” He winked.

“Tom! Don’t bore Barbara!” Trixie shouted from the second story window, where she and Patsy stayed.  The window banged shut; she was possibly on her way downstairs to see her fiance.

Both Barbara and Tom laughed awkwardly.

“So do I detect a Scouse account from you, Nurse Barbara?” Tom asked, changing the subject. 

“Yes, Liverpool.”

“I’ve never been, is it nice there?”

“It used to be …  Liverpool’s swarming with Death Eaters. They kept to the docks, drowning any Muggle they could get their hands on. It’s also brought the Dementors.” She shivered. “They’re disgusting, dark creatures. Dementors come from the sea, and so everyone’s gone into the country or went down to London.”

“Better to put their children in the midst of large amounts of Muggles where it’s safer,” agreed Tom. “They can hide from You-Know-Who better that way.” 

 

*****

 

The next morning before their duties started for the day, everyone gathered for breakfast. Mrs B, the house-elf, made many dishes for the witches to choose from. Barbara had just helped herself to another kipper when an owl, a big black evil looking thing, swooped in and dropped a note next to Sister Julienne‘s hand. The pumpkin juice she was sipping placed itself back on the table as she read the note.

“Walburga Black is in labor.” She gave Barbara the note to read. “You can come with me, Nurse Gilbert.”

“I’ve got to visit Mr Bagnold, his Dragon Pox is getting out of control-” 

“You can attend to him later.”

“Alright,” Barbara got out of her seat and followed Sister Julienne down the hall.

“It’s only up the road, at number twelve. I dare say Walburga would not want Muggle inventions going near her house, so I suggest we use broomsticks instead of the bikes.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s six in the morning, I’m sure we will be alright.” They went outside into the darkness, down the frosty steps. Barbara put her witches hat on to keep warm while Sister Julienne fished a key out of her bag to unlock the shed that kept the broomsticks safe.

“Can you ride a broomstick?” Sister Julienne handed her a tatty Comet Five _. _

“Yes.”  _ Not very well _ . She mounted it, feeling nervous. “Does Mrs Black want a Muggle birth or a magical one?” Barbara wasn’t a fan of Muggle ones. Some witches for some reason used a tickling charm whilst giving birth, so they laughed maniacally while the midwives were trying to get baby out. Muggle births on the other hand, involved a lot of screaming, swearing, crying and cleaning up afterwards.

“She’ll most definitely want a magical one.”

Barbara set her bag down on the tail of the broomstick, and kicked off. She followed Sister Julienne, the cold wind whipping at her face as they travelled from number 62 to number 12. 

They landed in between number 11 and 13. 

Barbara was surprised to see an old house-elf wrapped in a pillowcase waiting for them at the door. “Mrs Black will be most honoured for you to be her midwife…” He said in a gravelly voice, letting them in. 

Walking through the hallway, Barbara saw the mark of a skull on the wall. She gulped. She wanted to ask Sister Julienne if they had just walked into a Death Eater den, but she felt it was too rude to ask.

They arrived at the parlour and Barbara saw that there were at least five stories in this house; outside there were only two. She heard footsteps and she saw a snotty looking middle-aged witch watching from the third floor.

“Mrs Crabbe, how nice to see you.”

“Well met,” The witch replied, not paying attention to Sister Julienne. She leered at Barbara. 

“‘Oo’re you?” she said rudely. “You're not a nun. Gimme some of that potion you give all the mothers.” There was a crack, and she apparated down to where Sister Julienne and Barbara were standing. “You pure-blood?”

“Uh...” Out of the corner of her eye, Sister Julienne gave her a quick nod. “Yes. My father is from the Gilberts up Liverpool.”

“Ah,” said Mrs Crabbe. She looked like she was trying to think of a wizard with the same surname, but she gave up. “Should’a known. You’d be cursed by now if you wasn’t pure-blood.”

Now Barbara realised why Sister Julienne had brought her instead of Trixie or Patsy to see Mrs Black. She was the only pure-blood witch who was free today to help deliver a newborn child.

“I hope you didn’t apparate here. When those Caterwauling Charm alarms go off, Sirius cries.” Mrs Crabbe nodded at a toddler, whom Barbara supposed was Sirius, who had just run in from the hallway.

“No, we took our broomsticks.”

Barbara stepped over Mrs Crabbe’s grandson, who was whirling around on a child size broomstick, toes skimming the carpet. This house was similar to Nonnatus House, except it smelled as if no windows were open, and there were more green and silver hangings everywhere.

”Kreacher, go and put the hot water on for the midwives, and send all the previous  _ Daily Prophets  _ up to Walburga.” said Mrs Crabbe. The house-elf slinked away into the kitchen, muttering to himself, while the two nurses made their way upstairs.

“Could you open the windows, so we could get some air in?” suggested Barbara as they just got to the second floor. “You don’t want baby…”

“ _ Patentibus _ _ , _ ” Sister Julienne said, pointed at the windows. The windows opened, and the cool London air came in. However, the air was still; Barbara could not put her fingers through it. They arrived at Mrs Black’s room, where the witch in question was in pain and groaning, sitting on a black ottoman.

Barbara began to lay some  _ Daily Prophets _ down, so the mattress was not soaked for the arrival of the newborn. The people in the pictures immediately ran to the corner as if they were going to get wet.

“You better come to bed, Mrs Black, as baby’s coming…” 

 

****

 

Seven potions, six charms, and Barbara running around trying to mix a relaxer concoction without blowing up the house later, another son was born to Mrs Black.

“We need to check up every day for the next few weeks...” said Sister Julienne, while Barbara Vanished the  _ Daily Prophets  _ and put the cauldron and ingredients back into her bag.

“Yes, yes, I know. My boy will be a proud Slytherin, marry a pure-blood, continue the family line...” Walburga looked so happy and content with the life she had already already envisaged for her infant son. “Perhaps even a devoted Death Eater who will show the world that filthy Muggles should not be trusted…”

Barbara pretended to be interested in Mrs Black’s ambitions for her son.

“His name will be Regulus,” said Walburga. “A fine Slytherin.”

Sister Julienne and Barbara left a bit later on their broomsticks.

“That was a scary place, Sister…” said Barbara, looking worried, as she flew next to Sister Julienne. “Going on about Slytherins, and You-Know-Who…”

“I was a Slytherin,” Sister Julienne replied. “I am proud of my services to the Mother House. I am ambitious, in the sense that I want to protect the mothers of Poplar. However, everyone has qualities that can be attributed to all four Hogwarts houses. But I am not a horrid person. Walburga and Orion are not Voldemort supporters, but they have similar ideas.”

“Backwards,” Barbara muttered. “Hang on, you said his name, you said  _ Voldemort!” _

“Yes, I believe not saying the name makes you more afraid of it.” 

 

****

 

After dinner that night, when Phyllis took herself off to Madrid to learn Spanish, Barbara went to see Patsy, Delia, Trixie and Tom who were having a get together in Trixie’s room.

Barbara couldn’t stop gushing over Sister Julienne.

“She’s amazing, knew exactly what she was doing, could mix a relaxer potion without messing up, and baby was delivered safe and sound without even touching Mrs Black!”

“Sister Julienne is perhaps one of the best witches at wandless magic,” said Trixie, sipping her lemonade. “Once a Rhydon came through - it’s a type of magical rhinoceros on two legs that escaped from The London Magizoo - beastly looking things - and well, we tried to stop it and it wouldn’t stop howling. It snapped my wand in half, Tom was too busy at the community centre with the Muggles who had been evacuated - they thought an old bomb from the war had gone off! Sister Julienne just waved her hands a few times, said a few spells and it was sort of floating in the air until the zookeepers came through. And there I was with a broken wand, covered in mascara and muddy water from the Poplar docks.”

“How awful,” Barbara said. “Did you get your wand fixed?”

“I had to go to Ollivanders and get a new one. Twelve Galleons. But it’s holly and poppy with dragon scales. Ten inches long.” Trixie swished her wand, and the scales glittered.

“Mine’s just thistlewood and mistletoe.”  _ So ordinary _ , Barbara thought.

“Mine’s thistlewood and mistletoe!” said Tom.

“We match, isn’t that amazing?”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Lots of people have  _ matching _ wands.”

“It is amazing considering how rare it is to meet people with matching wands!” said Barbara.

“Are they from the same tree? I know that if you try and do spells against each other it goes all funny and then it messes up the wand.”

“We have matching wands,” said Delia, grinning at Patsy. “This is why we were friends at Hogwarts.”

“Because we could duel and nothing would get through,” said Patsy. 

Barbara peered at their wands. They were identical down to the last inch. “Kneazle whiskers and walnut,” Patsy said proudly. “Same walnut tree, but not the same Kneazle.”

Delia and Patsy suddenly pointed their wands at each other. “ _ Petrificus Totalus! _ ” Instead of both suddenly becoming stiff as boards and falling down, their spells rebounded against each other and became a white light.

Barbara clapped enthusiastically. “Amazing!”

“Not amazing!” Trixie said shortly. “Look at Tom!”

It seemed the spell had ricocheted onto Tom, who promptly keeled over with a  _ thunk _ .

“Oh no! I didn’t mean to!” Delia cried, looking as if she was going to flip out. “I’m so sorry!”

“Someone’s coming!” Trixie hissed suddenly. “Tom’s not supposed to be here!” 

Barbara threw Patsy’s blanket over Tom, who was in between both beds.

“Is everything alright?” Sister Ursula had slinked in. “Please be less noisy as it is bedtime for the nuns. Patsy, you are on duty and should have the window open for an owl.”

“Yes, so sorry, Sister.” Patsy said, going over to the wall and opening the window. The cold, foggy London air crept in, making everyone in the room feel frozen. 

Sister Ursula left, and they released Tom when her footsteps had disappeared. “That was too close,” said Trixie. “She would have, I don’t know, transformed you into a bat for all of eternity.”

“I don’t think she would do that,” Tom said, looking sheepish. “I better get going. I have a christening to do tomorrow.  Thank you for the drinks and biscuits.”

“No problem,” said Barbara. “How are you going to get back without Sister knowing?”

Tom nodded at the small mirror on the wall. He went up to it, and tapped it twice with his wand. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.” The mirror suddenly became much larger; he stepped into it, and vanished. 

 

**** 

 

The morning owls came in with  _ The Daily Prophet _ , and there were no letters for anyone except Trixie, from Tom. On reading it,  she was not pleased at all. She made Tom come around after the morning christenings.

“Tom!” She thundered up and down the hall. “Why do you want to go to Yorkshire? It’s a barren wasteland out there and no one can understand the accents!”

“Because I’m needed there. Also, the Sheffield Serpents are a good Quidditch team to watch while we’re there... the moors are brilliant, Trixie… some of the most famous witches and wizards come from there… We can apparate back and forth...”

“And set off the Caterwauling Charm three times a week so Death Eaters will come out and kill us? No thank you!”

In the end, Tom decided to go. Trixie was so upset she broke off the engagement.

“Why do I live in Europe where there are soggy Dementors and wretched wizards who just want to get rid of Muggles? Why can’t I live in America where they have none of our problems?” Trixie’s eyeliner was dripping down her face. Barbara got out some tissues and wiped her face with them. He had been gone only a week, and it already felt lonely without Tom here. 

“Don’t cry, Trixie.”

“I’ll never see him again!” Trixie spluttered. “And if I do he’ll come back with maybe three toes, or Imperiused, or bloody delusioned with Death Eater ideals…”

“Tom would never become a Death Eater,” said Barbara. “His heart is too pure for that.” She tapped her wand and the handkerchief Trixie was using went to the sink, squeezed the excess water out and flew back into Barbara’s pocket.

“Thank you.” Trixie whispered.

Barbara pushed a piece of cake towards her. “Cheer up, old thing. Mrs B’s new recipe. Firewhiskey Gateau. It might be a bit strong, but it’s helped old Valerie out a lot... hence why she’s gained a bit of weight,” she added in a hushed tone. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back.” 

 

****

 

The end of the year was drawing near. The charm to move Nonnatus House was to be set up by the nuns alone, using secret magic known only to them.

Tom had arrived back several months later, after finding out that the job offer he received was actually made by Death Eaters. He had barely escaped, and by that time, Trixie didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

“I’ll cheer you up,” Barbara offered. “Come to Nonnatus House on New Year’s Eve and watch the nuns change the house number to 62 from 63.”

Tom smiled weakly at Barbara. “I think I’d like that.” 

 

****

 

The Ghost of Sister Monica Joan ushered everyone outside at 11.30pm on December 31st. Several healers were not present. Patsy and Delia had gone off to amuse themselves, claiming they had their own tradition in one of the nightclubs down Dragon Alley (Near Diagon Alley, Barbara had never been). Barbara did want to go, but she had promised Tom that she would be with him for New Year’s Eve. Trixie was nowhere to be found.

“I have always looked into the stars, and God has told me witches will embark on this new year with plenty of excitement,” said Sister Monica Joan, as the nuns got together in a group and started the spell for moving Nonnatus House to number 63. “This world will be unified one day, without war, without the Eaters of Death, and more importantly, Muggles…”

Tom laughed. “She makes no sense…”

“I agree,” said Barbara. “At first, when she was going on about things, I thought she was predicting things, like a seer. But she’s not. She’s just good old Sister Monica Joan.”

The nuns began chanting, making strange movements with their hands. When the clock struck twelve, fireworks exploded all around Poplar. Fizzing dragons, firecrackers shaped like the Minister for Magic, and other famous figures, filled the night sky. With one more hand signal, Nonnatus House jumped several metres in the air to the right. The 62 dissolved into a 63.

“Happy New Year, Barbara.” Tom hugged her, as the nuns and healers cheered.

“Happy New Year, to you too.” She smiled.

They all went inside to have a midnight feast, where Valerie would come back to announce the arrival of twins born several streets away, a year apart. That night, Nonnatus House was joyful, and hopefully, thought Barbara, 1963 would turn out even better. 

  
  



End file.
